


Frazil

by o-minium (minium)



Series: ATLA [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Politics, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minium/pseuds/o-minium
Summary: Since that day—It’s never felt right.He’s tired.Pretending, going on—as if it ever—everwill again.(or)—walk with me,oh,just stay beside me now(it’s all I’ll ever need)
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko
Series: ATLA [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548844
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Frazil

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a rewrite of a deleted work of mine. Before, I used to hate writing, and everything to do with it, with a burning passion. But this story— I was compelled to start writing it before I had even known what had occurred. So, it’s the first thing I ever wrote and it’s very important to me that its story is told.
> 
> * * *
> 
> ### Major Thanks To:
> 
> [whorerormovie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whorerormovie/pseuds/whorerormovie), [hinagikuhaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinagikuhaven/pseuds/hinagikuhaven), and gray (<3) for the time, effort, and encouragement about the opening chapters. All of you brought unique perspectives that helped this work become what it is. You were all wonderful betas and I truly appreciate all that you all did! <3333

Duty reigned, inescapable.

Distantly, he wondered when he had begun to flinch away. When had he last gazed directly in its face?

He knew the answer to that. What a pointless question he’d asked.

A blackened, soot-like stain was all they’d ever left on this world. Staring back at him: marks of everything that’d led to this— everything he’d succeed _himself_ in time. Threatening nausea: left-over camps from a siege long-forgotten and unacknowledged, cloudy film on every oasis that had managed to crop up in this vast waste of nothingness, and of course, the trail of destruction left behind even if the drill itself (the one they’d scrambled to remove as soon as they possibly could) was disappeared out of the memories of the people smiling and chatting as if nothing had happened at all.

Ah, _yes._ What a _legacy_ to look forward to.

Everything a lie. And who was he to ever have spoken of honor? A sickness inflicted and he wasn’t blameless either. The perpetrators were them. It was all (only)— _them._

 _What could a lifetime of apologies possibly amount to?_ How long the length of done wrong before he could never take another stolen breath?

‘Perfect,’ they’d said.

‘Perfect,’ he’d declared.

And then he saw which direction truth truly led. Zuko saw— _everything._ And he said, ‘What a great _lie_ that was.’

Y _et,_ what was any of it worth when he could not even keep matched stare.

Accusation lit in the draw of her brows, the wetness luminous in her gaze.

All he could do: bow his head, give reparations. The result of which wasn’t any softening of expression. What more could he do? (He wasn’t and could never be blameless).

Could he _even_ —

Yet. Warmth chased attention. Spelling away the icy pit half-formed, thought pausing in its stride, he glanced down to see— the larger palm covering his— an anchor holding him firmly aloft, but loosely enough that he could shake if he so chose.

 _It was always like this._ An answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

When he couldn’t even trust himself, he could always, always, _always_ look to him _._

Briefly, Zuko tightened his grip, contemplating pulling back— yet at the twitch of fingers firming and relaxing on-top his own, he _sunk_. Completely and utterly (one touch reminding him of something unshakeable). He allowed himself this one indulgence for only the longest minute before pulling away, letting out one breath; that heavy weight set upon once more— he— _regained_ himself.

The action didn’t go unnoticed. Looking into one of his eyes, then the other, confirming something Zuko didn’t acknowledge, Uncle smiled his way, full-force and _oh,_ so familiar.

When he looked away, the warmth shining back onto Zuko left as quickly as it had come, leaving him as cold and bereft as he _always_ was.

One hand on the window-sill, the other leaned into his cheek, his uncle’s expression wasn’t something he was privy to.

Zuko’s shoulders sunk anew at this increasingly familiar view.

“These sights—” Uncle gusted a single sigh before continuing, tone tinged with something familiar and unfamiliar in equal turn “— breathtaking as always. I don’t know why it takes me aback every time we come.”

Averting his eyes, taking in the same view, knowledge that they saw something completely different sat heavily between.

An endless bank of sand— that dry and unforgiving sea leading them to the one place most bitter.

“And this breeze—” Uncle leaned fully forward, loose hair swaying with the wind.

Pursing his lips together, blinking away anything that could have meant too much, because— when would he ever— even then, _even_ then— that ugly emotion— one he had no right to subject anyone to, welled up a stream, the rush. Yet, he couldn’t. He _couldn’t._ Partaking in that same view, he could do nothing but flit away _that_ familiar rhythm playing out still.

A breath out (the resounding only grew, tapping merrily away at his temples) and an answer, “How could I ever forget?”

Painfully, it tightened in his chest; and this time, nothing could soothe this _ache_.

Uncle turned to him then.

He looked away.

What else could he do?

At just a single glance of his gaze— proclaiming proudly, spine straight, chest and chin liftedly decidedly above, their guide gestured grandly with his arm, pointing to the vast swath of sand breaking. “If you take a look outside, you can see the glorious walls protecting the most prosperous city in all the lands.”

All he wanted to do: laugh uproariously. There was no escape for him anywhere he looked. Ba Sing Se sat proudly, boasting its Wall (while housing the Peace Summit in the same breath). The irony seemed lost on everyone except him.

They had all started to talk around it— mention the war without mentioning it at all. As if it was too distasteful to speak of openly, as if they hadn’t just been bitterly battered only years prior. The pointless side-stepping didn’t suddenly make the last century any less real. What was the point in the fight if it’d be all but forgotten? Left unacknowledged? Everyone carried on, leaving it all behind—

At least on the surface.

He, more than most, keenly knew how little they’d actually been ‘forgiven.’

And would they ever be forgiven? No matter how much he— What had been writ in her eyes extended to countless more. It was as if— he’d never do enough, _be enough_ — to be worthy. To fix all the broken things left behind from men that had never once apologized to anyone.

Of his own making, this chokehold… it was too much; _everything was entirely too much._ The way it all bore down on him was now pronounced _all his fault_.

Walls rushing overhead, the city swallowed them without any shout, any fanfare.

Whereas before there was nothing, suddenly, civilization spread as far as the eye could see. Everywhere he looked, that’s all there was.

Zuko, despite himself, looked back.

It was the first thing he saw— how could it not be? The way it stood out, stark and laid bare, cracks still spreading outwardly.

The one oasis still left. How much they had coveted it. Something only built out of necessity, to keep one, single bastion of hope.

Even here, they brought the fire. Greed unrelenting, their ugly scar sat its mark still.

Staring so longingly, he almost voiced that desperate wish strangling his heart— take him, take all of him adrift; where his heart so longed to go: far away from here.

If only.

He flickered his gaze to stare back out onto rolling green. Sentiment fluttered away, out of reach— Zuko watched it pass. He didn’t chase it. Didn’t _follow_.

For how could he when so keenly felt: the weight rooting him to this spot barely understood; worn, same, beyond the grasp of understanding still unbestowed. A dream fluttering was only that. And daydreaming was all he could afford.

Lips twisting, just moments before— before they had officially embraced the city limits proper, it’d all been dry as earth as earth was ever wont to become. And nothing could be done as it was. _How quickly things turn to dust._

“I find myself nostalgic for the days we roamed these streets together, but don’t let any of the council members know I said such a thing.” Uncle’s eyes crinkled, a laugh following shortly after. “They’ll think I like the people here more than them.”

“But you do, Uncle,” Zuko spoke without any thought. When realization hit, he clamped his mouth shut, looking decidedly _away,_ suddenly glad that their car was a private one.

Uncle only brightened further at thoughtless words. Body swaying, mirth shaking with force that seemed almost unearned. And how lowly Zuko was to envy Uncle any of that hard-won ease.

Sometimes. Sometimes, he could be better than this. And sometimes, he was just that same bitter, angry— oh, how he was always so _angry_ — teenager reluctantly riding along the same journey.

Of course, that flame had dimmed, snuffed out in that weary march to the end of it all. Yet, what he wasn’t prepared for: the way he’d fell into husk— shifted off his natural course, shape forged into something new, _something entirely unfamiliar to him._

Zuko, looking into himself, sat motionless, still before someone unknowable; someone he had never been prepared for, expected to meet.

How lonely it was, this feeling of _new_.

The only thing left from the pages of before: his uncle’s dancing shoulders.

Something writing itself into the pages _after_ : the smile that came unbidden when that mirth dislodged Toph— who had been using Uncle as a perch for sleeping upon. With a glare twitching the corners of expression, she peered Zuko’s way with heavy-held suspicion.

She always blamed him, first, but it was fine. Zuko held out his hands in front of him in a sort of surrender anyway; sheepishly lowering them when her expression didn’t change a whit.

It was all—

 _Fine_.

A foot forward, even with everything inside telling him, ‘No. You can’t. You _can’t_.’ That slow march never paused, never stopped. Time would continue ticking on, ticking on and he would only be helpless but to follow behind, pulled and pushed in its unblinking stride.

Another step, another after that, and soon, he found himself lifting his head, feet leaving that last ledge, stepping out of that awning.

This was it. The end of the path.

He was _here._

Light wasted no time making its way to his side, cheerfully blinding him on its whim. He squinted through— the rays impeding his vision (a literal spotlight made personally for him)— taking in the vision the city always greeted.

And maybe it would have been shocking if he hadn’t been so painfully, intimately _familiar._

It was all still the _same._

Shadows lengthened across seemingly limitless marble, the largest of which landed solidly in front of his feet. It was quiet. He was trailing behind, but even still, more than that— stretching grandly, limitlessly before him and—

— They were the only ones on the platform.

Every year since and every year thereafter, it was the same. He didn’t know why the inevitable swooping that only spelled disappointment crawled up his throat each and every time even when he _knew._

_This view would always be the same._

That first time: desperate and begging, mixed in with all the others singing the same tune. Now: privately, personally welcomed, people afraid to even utter a single misspoken _word._ To the right: the bustle of people just a little distance away, seething, swimming in a swarming mass. In-between: walls, guards, everything that could possibly protect. And who was this so-called ‘protection’ for? Them _or_ —

Sounds swirling in the air ahead while there was nothing beside. So close, but so far away. He couldn’t ignore it, could barely stand to look away from the sharp divides that persisted still, couldn’t help the slump curving his spine.

Some days— some days, it was as if he truly hadn’t made any progress at all. The City of Walls, they called it; and the name was well earned for this place remained as unyielding as ever (divided as ever).

That soft whisper that spoke, that rang— freedom, _freedom_ — the taste of salt-soaked days that he would never—

Suffocating— this air was so suffocating. Words dying in his throat without even given a single voice.

Ba Sing Se. Every welcome worse than the last, he was here at last.

Even though he already left, he couldn’t help himself— turning back, eyeing the ferry that had led him here, to _this_ destination, further and further away from him, it went beyond reach, unattainable.

“Your paperwork will be waiting for you when you get back, don’t you worry your pretty, little head,” Toph’s voice cut in on reminisce, startling his spine into minute stiffness.

“I wasn’t worried about that!” His denial automatic, he spun around, facing her.

She eyed him doubtfully, taking a long look; then snorted, walking away from him, hands clasped in a loose hold behind her head.

He eyed her carefreely departing figure, a spark of envy sparking but never— bubbling over.

After a moment, he followed in her wake. There was no turning back after all.

It was going to make him sick.

Fire— familiar to him as anything, anything, _anything_ — cast in green hue, and it seemed so wrong, so unexplainably _wrong_ to be lit in this glow, to allow the shadows cast in its wake. Cavernous chamber they’d been ushered into and his gaze stayed stuck, still on this one, single _point._

All he could do: _nothing._

The stranger spread his hands, offering palms lit into plain view, a facsimile of candor. “We extend our sincerest apologies. Some last-minute preparations demanded the personal attention of His Majesty.”

Zuko didn’t even need to turn to know how their party had taken this blatant insult. Face unmoving, inclining his head at rote pleasantry, Zuko impatiently waited for all the bowing and courtesty to run thin.

“Please feel free to make your home here for as long as you need.”

The words just wouldn’t _stop._ Was it possible to make someone feel disrespected with only a bow? They knew very well how long they’d be staying and wouldn’t be pleased with a minute more of the burden inherent in their presence.

Even if these lies at least tried at sincerity, reality already writ.

 _Yet._ And more the hilarity— he wasn’t all-together different to the ones he disparaged. The taught smile resting on his lips had worn long ago, and it was painful— _so acutely_ in a way he didn’t even know how to describe— to keep up this charade.

But he _knew_ — that he was the only one struggling. In this den of raptor-gators circling— of which, plenty stood alongside— he was the only one still standing on unsteady feet.

_When would he ever learn better than this?_

This hadn’t been anything he’d ever signed up for. That was a lie. He hadn’t known _this_ was what he had signed up for.

The difference between dreams and reality was so vast, no one could bridge the divide unscathed. And certainly he— wasn’t anyone he’d ever imagined. Never in those idle daydreams of _after_ had alluded to any of _this._

_“Your visit honors us deeply.”_

Words spoken on glib tongue.

He wanted to sneer. He didn’t. Zuko didn’t do _anything._

Mockingly, he’d referred to such people thus: puppets on strings with no master to be found. And he— he was as hypocritical as they came.

Finally, exhausting all possible avenues of conciliatory welcome, “Shall we escort you to your accommodations?” The attendant gestured down the path.

In the space of him taking a single breath, another _separate_ attendant appeared underneath that hand held out. “Please, if you’d follow me,” the new one spoke, nose pointed downwards in deep bow.

Zuko blinked his way, before grimacing. How much bureaucracy did one place _need?_ Then catching himself, placed pleasant face once more.

Mercifully, ( _finally_ ) the attendant turned his back, departing in languid pace.

Ready to escape this mockery, moving to follow behind— a firm, _familiar_ voice halted steps before any stride could have chanced a form.

“That’s not necessary.”

Stood frozen with one foot in front of the other, quickly gathering himself, he turned, quirking his head to the side in silent question.

Pacified with a simple nod, Uncle didn’t waste any time returning his attention back to the attendant, careful smile forming on his face. “Wasting a day like this would be a true travesty. A walk would be quite refreshing after all that travel.”

“Uncle,” Zuko started to protest, confusion coloring the call.

Darting his eyes Zuko’s way— when their eyes met, the soft, but visible lines around his eyes eased, expression softening _just_ at the sight of him. And it was so warm— and how quickly did he always _forget_ — yet quickly so, Uncle’s expression collapsed into nothing known.

At the warning swimming in his eyes, Zuko thinned his lips, inclining his head. Pure ridiculousness: how he wanted to scream— demand, _beg_ their leave. Everything he wanted to say never made way past lips glued shut. Nothing would have been welcome— decorum mandated silence.

Even so, even he knew nothing was owed to him in the first place.

He allowed himself just one closing of his eyes, knowing no one would be looking to _him._ A moment passed. He took a moment more, already invalidating the promise he brokered just before. Always like this, he was. Opening his eyes, the first thing seen: the crossing of Toph’s arms, the only one turned his way when everyone else gathered, circled around Uncle. Turning away from her still, tuning back in— Zuko, too, turned to him.

Hands clasped behind his back, pleasant smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Fire Lord Iroh commanded attention in a manner that was subtle still as it drew everyone’s eyes. “You wouldn’t deny an old man his pleasures, would you?” Pleasant words, patience that stretched almost limitlessly, but he could tell—

They’d never been insulted this way before. Never before had the Earth King had the open gall to refuse to receive them. Never before had he seen the lines of Uncle’s face so creased in committed falsity.

“A walk sounds perfect,” Toph spoke— of course, as soon as the escape from the clutches of relentless posturing was offered, she’d support any measure to carry it through. “Gives me a chance to regain that healthy coating of dirt after the trip that never ended.” Toph stretched, yawn breaking out.

“It’ll also give you time to come back to the world of the living with the rest of us,” Zuko bit back.

Of course she didn’t notice; she was already leaving this ‘welcome’ behind.

“It’s decided then,” Uncle decreed, pleased.

He should have been used to this.

Once, he hadn’t even spared a second glance, but now the crawling discomfort at grandiosity casually given and received would never leave. It was one thing he hadn’t expected to keep.

Even now, closing his eyes, he’d imagine that push and pull— the rocking of that ship once hated. Some would say that three years was no time at all, but he couldn’t agree. Their mark held within him even now.

Raised back to lofty heights he didn’t even recognize anymore— he didn’t know what he should feel. Solidly connected to earth and he couldn’t shake that minute, _instinctive_ aversion.

He’d been carved straight through and no matter how much time he spent back in what should have been familiar— Zuko was the one; he was the one who’d been estranged from here in the first place.

Sprawling green spread out before them, limitlessly stifling where he expected the smoke, the noise— chatter, laughter, everything that would be absent here. No one dared move aside from them. It was as quiet as it came.

Domineering, yet opening up for them only, the arches parted the path for them. At the yawning mouth of what was only inevitable, guards stood ready ( _for them only)._

Clearing her throat, the one on the right spoke readily, “I believe the Firelord is inside, working in the kitchen, Your Highness.”

“Ah, thank you,” Zuko murmured absently, looking to his right— only to find where Toph should have been empty. Zuko moved his gaze, rising until it met where she had already ambled up all the stairs, straight to the doorway waiting. “You could wait for me, you know.”

She barely acknowledged him. “And you could be faster than a sloth-monkey, but we can’t all get what we want.”

This wasn’t new. There must have been something wrong with him to have found her frequently insulting words so endearing, but he stood smiling by himself all the same.

Quickening his stride, he caught her where she’d slowed, waiting for him. Moving forward to open those large doors, fingers met only open air.

The entryway was already unveiled before them.

Turning his head, he saw that the guard had followed behind. _Ah._ And this too, wasn’t new. He dismissed her with tight smile, entering the villa.

Taking it in, his expression only tightened.

Toph whistled brightly, and he almost startled at the first spark of excitement she’d shared in days. “Nice digs.”

Darting his eyes, he couldn’t help but agree with her.

Only the entryway, and countless rooms opened themselves to them still. It was more than anything they would ever need. And how wasteful it would have been if it was only them three. Still, their retinue wasn’t as large as it could have been and this would have still been overmuch even if it was.

Gold-plated everything, nothing about the decor had any subtlety. Eye lingering on the statue of someone he had no knowledge of, the one the measure of the room, his lips twisted then flattened. “Don’t get too comfortable. We won’t be staying long.”

“And back to that suffocating den of bureaucracy you call home.” Visibly pulling a face, she showed him exactly what she thought of that. “Great,” she continued, popping the ‘t’ with ever heightened disdain.

_As if here was anything different._

Instead of acknowledging her childishness, he focused on the task at hand. “Uncle’s in the kitchen.”

Toph walked off again in what was quickly becoming a habit of hers.

“Where are you going?” he yelled at her back.

“What kind of question is that?” she returned the shout.

“What do you m—” Abruptly, he stopped talking.

Right. She knew where she was going. Obviously. He knew that.

With fragrant aroma swirling through the air, it was enough to _soothe_ , ease tension out of limbs he hadn’t even noticed gaining any stiffness.

Zuko didn’t bother stopping himself, following his nose, he stepped through that entryway, into what awaited, steps fast, smile blooming even more readily.

Sunlight raining in, pots bubbling away in an almost but never-quite-reaching harmonious cacophony, and he was _finally_ — Without any conscious thought, he’d ended up in his uncle’s embrace. Warmth ceded in; he didn’t stop a thing.

For a moment, for one, single wordless moment— everything made _sense._

_Nothing that kind was meant to last._

“What’s all this for? This is enough for an army, Pops.” Toph’s questioning unspelled it all— and he shouldn’t have felt so— disappointment banked at the shores of momentary peace.

Iroh’s voice rumbled; the vibration of which he clung to only too needlessly. “An army, indeed. I suppose being here has me nostalgic. I thought it’d be a nice gesture to the fine folk traveling with us.”

He had to let him go.

Fleetingly, Uncle smiled so _sweetly_ his way before turning away, looking to Toph.

Behind his uncle’s grand gestures, in that world bathed in warmed and honeyed tones where only they (temporarily) resided, steam wafted and beckoned, and Zuko was only too helpless but to follow. Pleasantries behind him fading into pleasant hum, at the barrage of polished metal gleaming, he couldn’t help the way— he slowed, taking a breath, releasing another, taking it in thoroughly— as he walked over to glance into his uncle’s handiwork.

As he held one of many delicately crafted teapots high, it shined, glittered in the light raining merrily, indulgently down. Yet, the sunlight moved behind the clouds and the warmth retreated as the darkened room told reality once more.

It couldn’t be.

Yet as he sniffed again, peering into the unusual color of the liquid, he couldn’t help the question, “What kind of tea is this supposed to be, Uncle?”

“Something I picked up with a traveling trader. I thought we all deserved a bit of a treat today.” Uncle moved around the counter to reach into one of the cabinets, pulling out an unfortunately familiar plant— with emerald dyed so bright the lack of color falling on the edges was almost too easy to miss; unfortunately, Zuko’s gaze caught and stuck. Uncle waved it in the air, a proud expression stretching across his face. “This is it!”

For a moment, all Zuko could do was stare blankly.

Yet, quickly enough, sanity returned. “Uncle.” He paused once, letting out a slow breath— exhaling, before continuing, “That’s White Jade Dragon Bush.”

With the puzzlement etched in his face, it was clear his uncle didn’t understand.

“It’s _poisonous._ Where did you even—” he had to pause again, frustration mounting. Swallowing it down, he palmed his face, gathering the last shreds of oft-forgotten patience.

“I could have sworn…” Rubbing his chin, he crowded Zuko’s side to peer into one of the pots. Looking down into the poison he had unwittingly created, he murmured slowly, “Ah, this color. How unusual…”

Moving his attention from his uncle for a moment, he turned to regard his _friend_ ; the same one who’d been _suspiciously_ silent.

Seeing how widely she smiled back at him, his eyebrow twitched once, then twice, but he smoothed it down, eyeing her all the while. “Not one word.”

Somehow, her smile widened further. “You have my word,” she pronounced slowly, particularly pointedly at the end of her pronouncement.

Zuko didn’t believe her one bit. Yet. At the moment. He had bigger issues than whatever was running through her devious mind. “I’ll get the guards to help clean this up. And then. _Then._ We’ll start over.”

Toph let out a bark of laughter.

He only sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> Creating this work has always been a huge labor of love and I appreciate anyone who has spent the time to share it with me.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Catch me at:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/o_minium)  
> [Tumblr](https://o-minium.tumblr.com/)  
> @.@


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